Darkest Before the Dawn
by julieanne2012
Summary: A Liz ficlet. Sam is home alone with a sick, five-year-old Liz. He can't help but take a few tricks out of Dean's book.


_Author's Note: This is just a little one-shot I came up with while I had writers block for **Playing with Fire** (yeah, sorry about that). I know there are TONS of sick!Sammy fics out there, but I figured this would be the first sick!Lizzie one (LOL). So, enjoy. Although you don't NEED to read my other Liz-verse stories to fully understand this, I still recommend reading it because, well, I'm the author, and...yeah, you should read it XD_

**Darkest Before the Dawn**

"I_ asked you to do one little thing for me, and you "forget." I just can't take it anymore!"_

Jess's words still haunted his mind as Sam lied upon the couch in the living room, staring up at the ceiling. In front of him, an old black-and-white movie was playing, but he wasn't paying attention to it.

This certainly wasn't the first time she stormed off for an hour or so, but it still hurt like hell that things have actually gotten this bad with them.

Although he was studying the cracks in the ceiling, his mind saw images of the worst night of his life. He may have had more than his fair share of them, but the night he lost his son just seconds after he was born took home the proverbial gold medal. Not only did it ruin Sam's relationship with life itself, Jess and him have been at it that night they came back home from the hospital with an empty carrier in his arms.

The worst side-effect wasn't even the fighting; it was how Liz was affected by the whole thing. Not only did she not receive the little brother she was promised, she had to deal with the aftermath of that horrid night.

Speaking of Liz, Sam forced himself to stand up and walk out into the hall. He wanted to check up on his daughter. She seemed out of it during dinner, hardly touching the mac and cheese Sam could barely make. Not that he blamed her with this shit going on, but…still, he was worried about her. No matter what happened between him and Jess: Liz came first.

Always.

As Sam approached the door, proclaiming to be Liz's room in crayon and backwards lettering, he heard the coughing. It was loud and sounded wet. The fit was so loud that Sam wondered why he didn't hear it in the living room.

Without even knocking, Sam opened the door. In the dim moonlight pouring out the window, he saw Liz sitting up and coughing into her hands. Her legs were tangled in her _Little Mermaid _bedspread and one of her pillows was on the floor: obvious signs that she had a fitful rest.

"Lizzie," Sam murmured, venturing deeper into his daughter's room. He tripped over stuffed animals and various toys on his way in.

She looked up at her dad briefly before the coughing fit started up again. Immediately, Sam was sitting next to her on the bed, rubbing soothing circles on her scrawny back. _She seems so tiny_, Sam thought. When another fit of coughing racked her body, Sam added, _and so fragile_.

"Dabby," she groaned, her voice hoarse from the constant coughing. She sounded more like a prepubescent boy then a five-year-old girl. "I feel sick."

Sam couldn't help but snort at how blunt his daughter could be. "Where do you feel sick, kiddo?"

After a minor (compared to the others) coughing fit, Liz said, "Eberywhere." She leaned against Sam's chest. That's when he noticed how hot she felt. Her brow was coated in sweat. This wasn't good.

"Hey, come on," Sam said, standing up. He grabbed Liz underneath her armpits and settled her in his arms. He carried her effortlessly into the bathroom, and opened up the medicine cabinet. He located the ear thermometer, and, with one hand, put a disposable cover over the sensor. "This might feel weird," he warned her, "just stay as still as possible."

Liz's only answer was another coughing fit. "Into your elbow," he said. Awkwardly, she adjusted so she wasn't coughing into her hand anymore. Once it passed, Sam gently put the ear thermometer into his daughter's tiny ear canal. After the beep, Sam looked at the digital display: 100.8.

"Crap," Sam whispered, trying to keep his voice low enough that Liz wouldn't hear him. It looked like he had a very sick Lizzie on his hands. Sure, she's been sick loads of times; more so than any other kids her age. But, Jess has always been there to take care of her. Sam just stood in the background and awaited orders to measure out some medicine, or grab an apple juice box. He now wishes he had paid attention more, but his mind was a constant monologue of worry whenever Liz was sick.

It was times like this when he wished he had stayed in contact with Dean. He knew how to take care of a sick kid. He pretty much raised Sam since he was four-years-old. Dean was there for it all: the good and the bad—especially the bad.

Liz's reverberating coughs dragged Sam back into reality. It wasn't the time to be reminiscing and thinking about what could've been. He was needed here and now. Liz needed him right now.

"Okay," Sam said, adjusting Liz in his arms. This only prompted more coughing. _Move her as little as possible_, Sam mentally noted. Jerky movements caused coughing.

Sam remembered back to when he was Liz's age and was as sick as a dog. Not only had a nine-year-old Dean held him tight telling him that it was going to be okay, but he also did preparations while soothing Sam. He remembered Dean freaking out about Sam's high fever, and then drawing a bath. Sam remembered the temperature of the water: barely room temperature. It had sent shivers down his spine.

"You're going to be okay, Lizzie," Sam said, replacing _Sammy _with his daughter's name. He slowly moved towards the bathtub and turned on the cold water to full blast. He used the hot water dials to make it warmer, but not too warm. Once he thought it was a good temperature, he put the plug in and sat down on the tiled floor.

"I don' wanna bath," Liz grumbled into Sam's shoulder. He just chuckled to himself as he started to pull up on his daughter's _Disney Princesses_ nightgown.

"It'll make you feel better, I promise," Sam said, throwing the nightgown onto the counter. He stopped the water before it got too high and asked his daughter to take of her underwear. With sluggish movements, she obeyed.

Sam helped Liz into the tub. The moment her feet touched the lukewarm water, he felt her whole body wrack from the chilly water. "DADDY! IT'S COLD!" Liz cried, clutching Sam's neck and feebly trying to wrap her legs around his chest. Water splashed up and covered Sam's entire t-shirt. Sam had to agree with Liz. He had made it too cold.

"Maybe the bath wasn't such a good idea," Sam muttered sheepishly. He grabbed a towel off the drying rack and tried the best he could to wrap it around his daughter.

To stop her shivering, Sam rushed back into Liz's room and grabbed a warm pair of pajamas for her and some fresh underwear. He set Liz down on her bed and fully wrapped the towel around her. "Can you do a big favor for Daddy?"

After a few coughs and a sniffle, she nodded.

"Could you put your pajamas on while I go get something?"

Again, Liz nodded, and sniffled once more. Now he had to add a runny nose to the never-ending list of symptoms. He made a mental note to grab a box of Kleenex from the hallway closet.

Sam headed back into the bathroom and grabbed one of the many bottles of child's cold medicine that filled up most of the cupboard space. He measured the correct amount, going by the handy little chart on the back of the bottle.

Liz was still sitting on her bed, wrapped into the towel. She stared blankly at her pajamas, as if trying to use the Force to get dressed.

Sighing deeply, Sam put the medicine on the dresser and helped Liz get dressed. Once she was all bundled up in her green-and-pink plaid pajamas, he placed her onto her bed and grabbed the medicine.

"Okay Lizzie, open wide."

Recognition sparked in Liz's eyes. With uncoordinated movements, she crawled more onto her bed. "No! No med'cine!"

"Liz," Sam warned, leaning down closer to her. "It'll make you feel better."

She made a face. "It tastes icky."

Sam released a tempered sigh. "Liz, don't fight with me. Just take the medicine."

"No," she coughed. As if to prove her point (or his, depending on how it was viewed), she sneezed loudly. Green snot flew onto Sam's face. He felt anger boil up within him. Without saying another word, he stood up and walked out of his daughter's room.

He wasn't angry about the snot-filled sneeze. That was an accident. He was angry at his stubborn daughter. Of all the traits she could have inherited from the Winchester side, it just had to be unrelenting stubbornness.

Then again, he was pretty much calling the kettle black. He remembered fighting with Dean about taking medicine. Usually, Dean would try to force Sam to take it, but then just walk out of the bathroom and come back with a glass of orange juice, for which Sam eagerly drank because it was his favorite drink when he was a little kid.

_Wait a second…_

Dean had tricked him! He had put the dose of medicine in the orange juice, knowing that Sam would happily drink it all up. Sam smiled maniacally. If Dean was able to trick him, maybe he could trick Liz as well.

Sam walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There wasn't much in it, aside from the leftover mac and cheese, some vegetables and fruits, and some sandwich fixings. But Sam's eyes landed immediately on the container of orange juice. He grabbed it from the back. Not really knowing how old it was, Sam opened it up and smelled it first. Good thing, because it was rancid. Without thinking, he put it back into the fridge and attempted to come up with Plan B.

He searched through the cupboards to find a package of apple juice boxes that Jess usually packs in Liz's lunches. Since he had no other course, he snipped the end of the juice box with a pair of kitchen scissors and dumped the contents into one of Liz's spill-proof cups. He poured the medicine in after it, and stirred it with a straw. The juice went from a semi-clear, tannish liquid to a cloudy concoction that looked straight from a horror movie. Sam could only hope that Liz wouldn't notice the odd coloration, or the odd flavor of the apple juice.

Liz was still leaning against the wall, her eyes drooping low. But she wasn't asleep—not by a long shot. The moment Sam stepped inside, her eyes sprung open, her unfocused eyes watching Sam.

"Here, I brought you some apple juice," Sam said, holding the cup out for Liz to grab. She grabbed the cup, but still looked at it suspiciously.

"It looks weird," she stated.

"It's just a different brand," Sam said, not missing a beat.

She took a sip. "Ib tastes fundy."

_At least she's observant_, Sam thought. "It's only because you're sick. Just drink it. Then you can sleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed tonight." His heart twanged when he mentioned Jess.

Liz drank half the juice before asking. "Is Mommy in bed?"

Sam's heart went from hurting to breaking. "Mommy's on vacation right now," Sam said, using the usually excuse when she'd storm out unexpectantly. "She's visiting Grandma and Grandpa Moore in Arizona."

After another coughing fit and a couple more sniffles (_Crap, the Kleenex!_), Liz finished off the juice and held it out for Sam to grab from her. He placed it on the table next to Liz's bed and lifted her up off the bed. "Come on sweetie, let's go to bed."

She nodded into Sam's slightly damp shoulder. He carried her out into the hall, making a quick stop at the closet to grab a box of Kleenex. He walked into his bedroom, and flipped on the light. She groaned and buried herself deeper into his shirt. "The lighd 'urts my eyes, Dabby."

Sam quickly cut the lights. Liz probably had a migraine. He could only hope that the medicine would help relieve it. At this moment, he would do anything to make his daughter healthy again. He hated how miserable she was. He wanted to take it all away from her.

He put Liz down on his bed and pulled the blankets over her shaking frame. He lied on top of the bedspread next to her, wanting to be ready in case she needed anything. She moved closer to Sam, curling into a ball next to his side. He put an arm around her, protecting her from whatever else that would make this sickness worse.

For the next hour, Liz drifted in and out of sleep in between coughing and sneezing fits. Whenever Sam heard a sharp intake of breath from her, he armed himself with a Kleenex and placed it against her nose. She would then sneeze and all her gooey snot would be collected within the cotton sheet, protecting both their faces.

Eventually, the coughing and sneezing subsided. Sam thanked whoever invented the glories of cold and flu medicine. He even got to doze off for a bit, only to be awakened by the sound of retching and something warm and slimy running down his arm.

"Daddy, I don't—" Sam immediately sobered when he realized what was going on. In a fraction of a second, Sam had whisked Liz out of the bed and dragged her into the bathroom. Without even turning the light on, he placed his daughter in front of the toilet just before she threw up again.

Within seconds, the smell of vomit assaulted Sam's senses. It was horrible, and it actually made him feel sick himself. But…poor Lizzie. Having the flu is one thing—but, having some sort of stomach virus on top of it made things a million times worse.

Just when Sam thought the worst was over…

After Liz was done, she wiped her mouth with her pajamas sleeve. Sam leaned down to comfort a shivering Liz. While keeping a comforting hand around his daughter's chilled body, Sam pulled the handle and the contents of the toilet flushed down to never be seen again. Unfortunately, the pungent smell stuck around. That's when Sam noticed the vomit clingy to his chest and arm. He would have to worry about that later.

"Do you think you're going to puke again?" Sam asked Liz. She shook her head, and he didn't believe it for a second. He remembered being the same way whenever he had a stomach virus. Dean would ask that very same question. Sam would shake his head no. At first, Dean would believe him…until Sam puked on the bed or on the floor or, once in a while, right on Dean. Eventually, Dean caught on that, although Sam didn't think he was going to throw up, chances were that he was.

So, taking caution, Sam kept Liz curled up next to him on the floor. He awkwardly reached up to grab the thermometer that he left on the counter. He retested Liz's temperature, and shuttered at the results. 102.1. It was still rising, and Sam new that was a bad sign. _But maybe it's like that saying,_ Sam thought, _it's always darkest before the dawn_.

Thinking a bath would be better this time around, Sam restarted the bath, making sure it was warmer than earlier—but too much. Satisfied that he would try to make a Liz-sicle again, he undressed his daughter and placed her into the shallow water. This time, she didn't cry out, she didn't protest. She just sat there in the semi-frigid water.

Liz used the edge of the tub to keep her upright. If allowed, she looked like she could pass out at any moment. Sam quickly washed her in some fake-strawberry smelling body wash and, unable to locate any children's shampoo, Sam used a tiny bit of Jess's. Despite the fight, Sam knew that Jess wouldn't mind him using a little of her shampoo. It was for their daughter, after all.

Taking advantage of a incoherent Liz, Sam whipped off his shirt and wiped the vomit off his arm. Once he was done, he picked Liz back up and put a towel around her body. He carried her back into her room and got her dressed into some new pajamas: this time, a flannel nightgown with Piglet on it.

"Are we goin' back tuh your be'room?"

Sam shook his head. Even though he was sure his body had caught most of the vomit, he knew that he hadn't been able to get it all. "No, you should sleep in your room, sweetie." He tucked Liz into her bed, and started to stand up when feeble arms grabbed his arms.

"No, no, don' leab me!"

In all honesty, Sam didn't want to leave her, but he would break her little toddler bed if he stayed on it too long. So, he put Liz back into his arms and headed into the only place that was comfortable and puke-smelling free: the living room.

Sam sat down in the recliner and Liz settled into his arms, lying mostly on his chest. Within minutes, Liz was fast asleep, snoring loudly because of her congested chest. Knowing that he wasn't going to get much more sleep, Sam turned on the television and surfed until he got to some black-and-white war movie. Not much after that, Sam was drifting off, his last thoughts towards thanking Dean for his help.

**-SPN- -SPN- -SPN-**

It was about seven AM when Jess finally calmed down enough to come home. She opened the door to the apartment, and was shocked at was she saw. Sam was lying on the extended recliner, shirtless, with little Liz clinging to a blanket in his arms. She was immediately hit by the smell of vomit and could help but jump to the worst conclusions.

Not wanting to disturb the sleeping father and daughter, Jess wandered around the apartment. She looked into the kitchen to see an empty apple juice container and an abandoned medicine cap. She ventured towards the bedroom she shared with Sam, where the smell of vomit was strongest. The light was off, but in the gradually-glowing light of dawn, she could see the stains of sick dotting the pale comforter.

The bathroom was about as fare, if not worse. The rugs were messed up, and water covered every available surface. A couples sets of pajamas and Sam's t-shirt laid abandoned on the floor. The items that usually occupied the cabinet but where now on the counter were the ear thermometer and a bottle of child's cold medicine. Jess groaned. Of course, Sam would use the one medicine that would make Liz vomit. She was meaning to discard it, but never got around to the chance.

Jess walked into Liz's room last. Two wet towels were discarded on the floor, undoubtedly already starting the molding process. There was an empty cup on Liz's bedside table, and it smelled of apple juice and something stronger, but unidentifiable.

Slowly, Jess put together the events of the night. But what she really got out of seeing all this was guilt. She wasn't here for her baby, and she left Sam to fend for himself. She deserved the worst mother of the year award more than anyone else in the world.

Not knowing what else to do, Jess took the thermometer from the bathroom and tested Liz's ear. 99.8. It was down significantly, according to the memory feature. She left the sleeping duo to rest, kissing both of their foreheads before cleaning up the mess.

**FIN**


End file.
